A Thousand Words
by missa1
Summary: HD, One shot I hope. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, if so then Harry feels he is the richest wizard who has ever lived.


Title: A Thousand Words  
Author: Missa  
Prompt: photograph for prompt-me-hd on LJ  
Rating PG  
Pairing:Harry/Draco  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, so on and so forth in this story.  
Warnings: HBP spoilers, one-shot (I hope) un-beta'ed, first time HP Fandom Writing. :D  
Word Count: 2,170 (writing time, 2 hours)

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then Harry thought he might have been the richest wizard ever known.

There had to be what looked like millions of photographs adorning the walls of his home, each one taken with as great of care as its predecessor. He would have been happy enough to have them spread out all over the walls, in no particular order, but as he was not the one who had gotten to design how the interior of the house would look, they were placed in chronological order, not that he minded. Some days he would just go from wall to wall and relive his memories, dreading up the joy or sorrow that he had felt on whichever day a particular picture had been taken.

It was truly quite remarkable how many pictures he did have, considering how meager his collection had been until he reached Hogwarts, and even then he had only gained a few pictures a year until he had bought his first wizarding camera in his fifth year. It truly was no surprise that for the next few years after that purchase his birthdays and Christmas's usually included at least two empty photograph albums.

_Perhaps having all these photographs in order wasn't such a bad thing_, he mused staring at the photographs somewhat in awe. Since he hadn't been the one to put the photos up, it shocked him how much about his life his love knew. Certainly there was no one other than himself who had been present at all the occasions, but as he went down the wall looking from one picture to the next it was evident that someone knew him that well indeed.

That thought brought a soft smile to his face.

He turned to his left and looked at a picture that had been taken the summer of his sixth year. It was taken during Bill and Fleur's wedding, and possibly the first time he had ever dressed in proper wizard robes. Certainly he had put on dress robes before for school functions at Hogwarts, but those were nothing compared to the finery he had been wearing in this photograph. Just thinking about it made him remember his embarrassment of that day and the few days prior.

* * *

_It had begun when he had arrived at the Weasley's, amid the chaos of the family getting ready for the upcoming nuptials and reception that would be held in a few days time. Ginny had been in a frantic about the state of her formal robes. When he had inquired as to what was wrong with them (they had looked perfectly respectable for him), Hermione had whisked him away, lecturing him about proper attire at weddings. _

_To this day he didn't think there wasn't anything she couldn't learn out of a book. _

_That afternoon was spent in Diagon Alley with both Hermione and Ginny, watching as they purchased their robes (Harry had covertly slipped some galleons into Ginny's purse), and discussions of cosmetics. It was quite possibly the most boring thing he had ever done, and that included going to the Yule Ball in fourth year. They had spent at least a few hours on the girls' clothing before they turned as one on him and began discussing his attire for the wedding. _

_It had most certainly caused him to turn beet red when one of his best friends and his former girl friend were openly discussing his best and worst attributes in front of his face. For most of the afternoon he honestly couldn't tell whether to blush in embarrassment or squirm in shame. _

_"Now, Ginny, that's not true. I think Harry's untidy hair is one of his best features. Even if it is unruly, it's very thick and rich and gives him that just snogged look." _

_Ginny had nodded her agreement. "Well I guess when you put it like that, it could be true. So we won't make him get a hair cut. Have you seen the state of his hands though? He could most definitely use a manicure to help with his nails and maybe some potion to rid him of some of his calluses." _

_That comment had caused Harry to look down at his hands to see if anything were really wrong with them. He was a boy. He had boy hands. He really just didn't understand what they had been trying to get at, so he had quickly vetoed that train of thought for them. _

_Of course, that didn't stop them from jumping from topic to topic, discussing things at a mile a minute and giggling all the while. They argued over whether he should wear his glasses or not, an argument which they had won. He had heard of contacts before, but had never tried them for himself. Trust Hermione's parents to know an optometrist with an opening for an appointment that day. _

_There was one thing he would not budge on however, and he argued them until he was red in the face before he had won. There was no way he was going to wear red and gold robes to the wedding. Of course, stating why was the beginning of his downfall. _

_"But Harry," Ginny pleaded with him, "You're quite possibly the most Gryffindorish Gryffindor to ever grace the wizarding world. It would be a slight if you didn't dress in your house colors for the wedding!" _

_"I don't see any scarlet or gold on your robes, Ginny," Harry had pointed out, blinking his eyes rapidly as he got used to his contacts. _

_Hermione nodded, "That's true. It might just be a bit of a social mess if he did do that. After all, he's Harry Potter. Of course everyone knows he's a Gryffindor. It would just be like saying that same thing over and over again. So, scarlet and gold is out." _

_At this point, it was all Harry could do to not cringe or show fear in front of these two girls, who looked like they wanted to sit him down at a tea party with a bunch of dolls and play dress up. Of course, he knew that was what they were basically doing. He wished he had Ron with him; just so that he could hide in the background and make Ron bear the brunt of two teenage females. Then again, it probably wouldn't have worked anyway. _

_"How about navy blue and silver," Hermione asked, still staring at Harry. _

_Ginny nodded slowly taking a liking to the idea. "The color would be really good on him." They slowly got engrossed in a conversation about how the color would accentuate his looks (sometimes he was very sure Ginny wasn't over him), and seemed to forget about his existence entirely. _

_This definitely worked to his advantage as he had been able to slip away and order a set of robes for himself. He had known what he had wanted; he just knew that they would never have listened to him. _

_After all, deep green and gold robes were probably just a bit too Slytherin for him to wear. _

_Of course, when later explaining his decision, no one could fault his logic. _

_His eyes were most definitely his best feature, and the green of the robes showed them off perfectly. _

_Of course, had he ever suspected exactly how big of a hit his choice of robes would have made him, he might have just gone to the wedding in black._

* * *

He smiled as turned away from the picture, thinking of how long ago it had felt and how much he had come to learn how to care about his appearance and clothing selection since then. It had truly been the start to his newfound hobby, if only because it was one thing that he got to choose all for himself, with no one making a choice for him. Shopping now gave him a brief sense of freedom, right up until he got pulled into a dressing room for a snog session. Then freedom definitely wasn't his top priority.

He walked further down the wall, passing about two years worth of photographs. Those were from the not-so-happy times in his life. The war had reached its peak and he, the Order and his friends had been being run ragged, almost to the point of collapse.

Then a guardian angel had appeared and saved them all. At least that was what it had seemed like.

_They had known, the entire Order, what had truly happened at Dumbledore's death. Once Dumbledore's portrait had woken up and explained the events of the night of his death, they had all known they had been horribly mistaken. _

_Of course, two years later the point was moot. _

_Until Draco Malfoy had appeared at the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place with the last horcrux they had been searching for years for. He was not treated with the kindest of regard at his arrival, indeed, even if he might not have been directly responsible for Dumbledore's death; he was indirectly responsible for it. He had purposefully instigated the attack at Hogwarts in their sixth year, and he had certainly fled behind Snape when they had made their retreat. _

_He had also had to watch his father die, be tortured for failing to perform what Voldemort had described as a simple task, and then watch his mentor die while he couldn't help him because he was in confinement. _

_Not that it much mattered to the Order. He wasn't evil, but there was no way he could be trusted. _

_It had taken another sixth months from the time Malfoy had arrived to track down Voldemort and finally destroy him. _

_And Harry, being sentimental, had only taken two things with him the day he destroyed Voldemort. His wand, and the photograph of Draco sleeping he had taken a few months prior. _

_He had known, he had always known somewhere, that the Draco of the past was little more than a spoiled child who had gotten lost on the way to growing up, and had no one to show him how. _

_Harry had seen, and Harry had remembered. _

_And Harry had forgiven. _

* * *

Harry shook his head, clearing it of the memory. Even after the defeat of Voldemort his life had not necessarily been easy. He had media wizards on his doorstep all the time, wanting to ask him about the final battle. He was learning to deal with the idea of being a killer, even if it had been for a good cause. He had to deal with his own darkness, never having truly believed he had enough darkness in him to cast an Unforgivable, and then being frightened about how easily it had actually come to him. And then there was his friends being angry with him, feeling that he had betrayed them for a ferret that couldn't be trusted.

No, it hadn't been a happy time in his life.

But his angel was always there to make it better. He always was. Even now, a few years later, his angel was always there when Harry most needed him. When he felt the darkness pressing in too closely, when he had waking nightmares of the final battle, when he had to deal with an insult that had no comeback that wouldn't make him look weak in the eyes of his peers; his angel was always there. The one small comfort other than his angel, was the fact that his friends had forgiven him, and in time, his angel.

He let his mind wander has he walked from room to room, looking at the different photographs. As he entered the drawing room, he came to the last of the photographs and the small smile he had been wearing expanded and grew, until it was quite possibly one of the brightest smiles he had ever given.

There was Draco, levitating the newest photograph onto the mantelpiece, with obvious care, almost as if he knew how delicate this one photograph was. Harry thought back of his trip through the rooms; pictures upon pictures, stories upon stories, thousands of words upon thousands of words; in the end it always would end at one place.

Walking forward quietly he stood next to Draco admiring the photograph that had been placed in an obvious place of honor.

At that point Draco stepped back and wrapped his arms around Harry, so that Harry could lean back into him and rest the top of his head against Draco's strong cheek.

There, in the frame, was a picture of Harry and Draco, resplendent in wizards' robes, after their ceremonial joining. It had been many years in the making, with many hardships and obstacles in the way, but from the wide grins, and pure _happiness_ radiating off of their waving images in the photograph, it had all been worth it.

Neither said any words while staring at the photograph, because it already said all the words they needed to.


End file.
